Ending
by Phases Of Obsession
Summary: Everything has an ending. Even Nancy Tremaine.


So, here's just a one shot about the ending of Enchanted. I just...it was really weird to see Nancy just go off with Edward. So, here's my explanation for it.

I don't own.

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She falls against the wall, sliding down to the floor, allowing her legs to collapse under her. She was shaking, much like a rabid chihuahua, but she was not crying. She was too tired to cry. Too tired to do anything. In that corner, she watched the world go round. She watched the police men empty out the room. She watched them try to explain what happened, why there was a gigantic dragon in the ballroom. Someone spiked the punch, some said. Others blamed accidental mushrooms in the soup. But Nancy knew what she saw. She saw a dragon.

She also saw Robert, soaking wet, carefully guarding over that ginger bitch as if she were the one he had spent five years dating. Five years of bad dates, fake smiles, and nearly nonexistent sex. For five _fucking_ years, she put up with his shit. And for what? Just to get chucked aside, a rag doll in his little game. He basically manipulated her into being a mother for his child, something to do on dull days and bored nights, someone to take from, but not give.

Well, you know what? He's not the only one who can manipulate. She could really make him pay…make him regret every single mistake he made. It was so simple. There was that balcony. One jump and she could wreck his world like he wrecked hers.

No.

She couldn't let herself think like that. She was far too upset and far too tipsy to even contemplate such a thing. She wasn't going to be the woman that is remembered for jumping off the roof after a really bad night. She wasn't going to end it like that.

But wasn't it already ending? She had two things in her life that mattered to her: her studio and her boyfriend. The last one…it's done. He's moved on. Gone. He'll never go back to her and she knows it. He looks too happy with that ginger. But what does that leave her with? An empty apartment and a failing business? She had already cut down nearly all of her pleasures and even some of her necessities in order to keep it afloat. She hadn't had a decent paycheck in over a year and the economy wasn't looking better. It was going to tank any day. When that's gone…she'll be nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Could it make her something? After all, isn't it better to be infamous than nothing? She could just chuck herself off of that ledge and everything, this pain, this worry…it would all be gone. It sounded so nice. To just be rid of it all. She smiled. She could do it. She would do it.

Despite her tiredness, she was able to haul herself up and stagger to the balcony. The rain was lighting up, giving her a clear view of the street and all the cars and ambulances and people. She takes a deep breath, hoisting her leg over the railway. She wobbled, but caught herself. She sighed. She was about to die.

Holy shit.

She was about to die.

She flopped backwards, landing painfully on her back, the wind knocked out of her. She gasped, trying to catch her breath and her wits, unable to wrap her mind around what just nearly happened. She nearly killed herself. She nearly fucking killed herself. No. That wasn't her. She wasn't that person. She wasn't weak like that.

But what if she was? Was she her own worst enemy? She was the only one involved in this. No one pushed her or even told her to jump. But, then again, no one told her not to. She titled her head, giving her a view of the few people left at the party. They didn't care about her. They saw her walking towards the door, walking towards her doom, but did nothing. They've still done nothing. No one cared about her.

God, what she'd do for someone just to ask, 'Are you okay?'. Of course, she'd lie to them, tell them she was fine, but that small sentiment would probably get her to pull through. It'd give her a hope that she desperately needed.

She stood, realizing the edge looked to damn good at the moment. She knew if she would stay there much longer, it'd be the end of her. She carefully, slowly, walked back into the ballroom, her every movement oddly achy. She stopped in the middle, where the bitch and the bastard danced. She wanted to scream, to cry, to thrash. But she just couldn't muster up the energy to do so. Instead, her eyes caught a spare shoe, sitting nearly as lonely as she was. She lowered herself down to it, picking it up. A snort rises from her.

"Why so sad, beautiful lady?"

Her head snapped up, seeing the man that the bitch ditched. Maybe he'd understand what she was feeling. He was in the same position. She held up the shoe. "She forgot her shoe. Figures," she said, trying not to sound like a bitter old maid.

He reaches out for the pump, asking, "May I?"

She couldn't help but smirk as she forked it over. His attitude of all of this was admirable. A playful parody of his ex's fairy tale mindset. If only she could so willingly mock Robert.

He lightly took her foot, sending a warm feeling all through her. She was tired and drunk and damn it, she needed to be touched. She nearly giggled when the shoe slipped onto her and he proudly proclaimed, "It's a perfect fit."

She let out a long laugh, to which he asked about. She just muttered, "You people are ridiculous…"

He stood, pulling her up with his. He pulled her into an unexpected hug, his warmth, though wet, overtaking her. She melted into it, feeling somewhat at peace. God, how nice being held was…Robert never really held her like that. He was more of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of guy, not a constant cuddler. She made a mental note to be sure to find a cuddler in her next boyfriend.

"Marry me," she heard mumbled into her hair.

She backed away, startled. "What?"

"Marry me," he said, again, with no change in tone.

"Are you…" she began to ask, but then she bit her lip. A sweet, handsome, caring guy was standing in front of her, asking for marriage. And she was at her lowest low and, at the rate she was going, would end up in the grave or the psych ward by the end of the week. She had literally nothing to loose. "Ah, what the fuck! Let's get married," she yelled, causing the man to hug her again. The man. She forgot his name. She asked. He answered. Edward. That's a nice name.

So that's why the last people to ever seen Nancy Tremaine in New York City reported her running, laughing hysterically, towards a manhole. They reported her looking around, grinning at the man, and jumping without second thought.

That was the day that Nancy Tremaine ended and Queen Nancy began.

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